My car waits across the street. I stumble toward it, vision blurring.
What did I ever see in him?
The silver fox charm. The sophistication. The way he made me feel safe when I couldn't pay rent.
Safe.
What a joke.
I climb into my yellow Mini, slam the door.
My hands shake on the wheel.
He controlled me. Dimmed my light. Made me small.
And I let him.
I wipe my eyes and start the engine.
Never again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The restaurant glows amber, candlelight flickering across Julian's face. He cuts into his steak with surgical precision while I twirl curry-soaked chicken on my fork.
"So." I lean forward. "Piano, boxing, and writing thrillers. What else are you hiding?"
His mouth quirks. "I bake a mean tres leches cake."
"Liar."
"My mom taught me." He takes a sip of red wine. "She worked double shifts when I was a kid. Waitressing, cleaning houses. I had to learn to cook or we'd starve."
I picture him—ten years old, standing on a chair to reach the rangehood. My chest tightens.
"She sounds amazing."
"She is." His eyes soften. "Strongest person I know."
The diamond studs in his ears catch the light. His silver rings clink against the wine glass. Everything about him is understated elegance—the fitted charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to expose that gorgeous tattoo winding up his forearm.
"Your dad?"
"Gone before I could walk." No bitterness. Just fact. "Left us when I was one."
"I'm sorry."
He shrugs. "His loss."
I smile. "Definitely his loss."
Julian's gaze holds mine, dark and penetrating. Those ridiculous lashes—long enough to make any woman jealous—frame eyes that seem to see straight through me.
"What?" I ask.
"You're staring."
"You're beautiful."
